New Start
by Missish
Summary: Post 'You've Got Male'. In which Grissom and Sara have coffee. GSRish.


**Summary: **Post _You've Got Male_. In which Grissom and Sara have coffee.GSR-ish.

**Disclaimer: **Grissom and Sara belong to Anthony Zuiker and CBS. Lucky them.

**A/N: **After seeing _The Finger_, I'm thinking that it was actually Hank that Sara called at the end of _You've Got Male_. Still, a girl can dream can't she?  
And yes, it really is as short as it looks.

* * *

Much to Sara's surprise, Grissom was already there when she arrived at the coffee shop. For a moment she hung back, trying to steady her breathing. He looked so handsome, reclined in the large battered red seat by the window, flicking through a magazine. Taking a deep breath, she approached him.

"Hey."

Grissom looked up and smile warmly. Sara returned the smile and sat down in the equally battered green chair opposite.

"I ordered you a cappuccino," Grissom informed her as she slid off her jacket, "Is that okay?"

"That's fine." Sara swallowed and tried to dispel her nerves. "What are you reading?"

Grissom held up the magazine and Sara almost had to laugh out loud. "The National Enquirer? That's not really your style, is it?"

"No," Grissom admitted. "Who are these people? Am I supposed to know them?"

"I guess so," Sara replied with a grin. "It's probably an old copy anyway."

"Women don't seem to wear much any more," Grissom mused. Sara hid a smile.

A young man brought them their coffee and placed them on the table between the two seats. Sara thanked him.

Grissom put the magazine to one side and picked up his coffee mug. Sara did likewise.

"I know this seems – uh – random," Sara began haltingly, "But after what happened to Donna – " She broke off and sipped uncomfortably at her coffee. "I don't want to end up like her."

"You won't," Grissom assured her gently. "Having a lot of things in common with someone doesn't mean that you'll 'end up' like them, Sara."

Sara nodded slowly. "I don't doubt that. I just thought – "

"Don't," Grissom interrupted her. "You're not Donna Marks. You're Sara Sidle. You should live your life the way Sara Sidle wants to."

"I'm not sure what I want any more," Sara confessed, keeping her eyes on the coffee.

"Then you need to find out," Grissom replied simply, "So that you can get whatever it is that you want."

They both lapsed into a comfortable silence. Sara realised that she had butterflies in her stomach. She gazed at the man opposite her, suddenly more aware of him than she'd ever been before. He was right. Of course he was right, when was he ever wrong? She had to find out what she wanted.

"Sara?"

His voice broke her from her reverie with a jolt. And just like that, she knew what she wanted.

"I threw out all of my mail order catalogues and take away numbers," Sara blurted.

Grissom gave her a smile that Sara had unconsciously begun to think of as 'her' smile. It was shy and amused and kind, combined with a twinkle in the eye. It sent a pleasant tingle down her spine.

"A new start."

Sara nodded. "Yes."

"Sara, don't change because of what other people say. Change because of what _you_ say."

"This is what I say, Grissom. Nick's right. I need to get out more. That's why I invited you here."

"Why me, Sara?" Grissom gazed intently at her, as if he was trying to gain an insight into her mind.

Sara avoided his gaze with a shrug. "You were the one who invited me to Vegas. Vegas, coffee. There's a connection there somewhere." She smiled. He smiled back.

When they left half an hour later they stood outside, bathed in the light from side the coffee shop that was streaming through the windows.

"Thank you for coming," Sara said shyly.

Grissom touched her lightly on the arm. "My pleasure. Thank you for inviting me." He paused. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah." Sara bit her lip and watched as Grissom headed towards his car.

He stopped as he was walking away, turned back and called, "Think about what you want, Sara. It's important to know."

Sara smiled. She didn't have to think. She already knew. She wanted him.

* * *


End file.
